Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1)

by Lesli Richardson

  That’ll be something else I rectify for him. And it means, this time, I’ll go slowly.

  His lips part and his eyelids droop, a precursor to what I have a feeling will be his O-face.

  “That’s it, pet,” I encourage. “Work that cock into your ass.”

  He does, slowly increasing his rhythm and the depth, a little at a time as his bravery grows.

  Fuck, he’s tight. Even after all the prep. Somehow, I manage to hold back despite my growing need. I really wish this time was bare, but I’ll settle for being the very first guy to ever get to do this with him.

  Once he’s got all of me inside him and my thighs tightly press against his ass, I lean in and kiss him. “Good boy. Such a good boy for me. Good boys get rewards.” Leaning forward like this, his cock is perfectly trapped between us. Taking long, slow strokes, I kiss him and keep his cock pinned there.

  His hunger builds like an explosive flashover. He’s nipping, sucking, biting at my lips as his passion grows, and I’m happy to play everything back to him and then some. I press more of my weight onto him, deepening our kisses and speeding things up. His hands close around mine as a low, deep whine builds in his chest.

  He’s so fucking close. It only takes a few more thrusts to get him over. Once he’s coming, his gorgeous, heavy-lidded expression of wonder and desire is everything I hoped it’d be, and I pound my cock into him to catch up and finally explode.

  When I fall still buried inside him, I release his hands and his arms immediately encircle me. We’re still kissing but it’s gentler now, trying to catch our breaths.

  Pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose, I smile. “There’s one item checked off your list.”

  He grabs my head and kisses me again, still hungry, still needy despite the puddle of cum between us. “What next, Sir?” The blatant desire in his gaze burns up at me like a blue-hot flame.

  Nipping his lower lip and tugging earns me another moan as he tightens his grip around me with his legs. “We’ll clean up, I’ll cook us dinner, and we’ll talk ahead of round two.”

  * * * *

  That’s the truth, too. I want to talk. We need to talk. So I can keep Elliot naked and completely bare, I grab the office chair from my desk in the living room and he uses that to get into the bathroom before he joins me in the kitchen. I’ve opted to stay naked. I’m usually naked at home, so it’s no stretch for me.

  I put him on the floor right there, on a couch cushion I’ve tossed a towel over. He’s naked, of course. He looks a little self-conscious, but I’ll get him talking and hopefully distract him.

  Fortunately, I have a couple of pizzas in the freezer, and it’ll only take a moment to toss them into the oven.

  He watches me as I prep them while the oven preheats. “How do you manage at home?” I ask. “When you don’t have your leg on?”

  “I have a wheelchair, a walker, and crutches. I have a shower chair, too. I use the walker in the bathroom, mostly. I don’t like using it in public, though. Hate the way people suddenly act like I have the plague or something.”

  He laughs but I don’t miss the sharp and slightly bitter edge to it. “Like an amputation might be contagious or something. I prefer using the crutches in public, if I need the help, like if my leg’s hurting. Mostly because I somehow become invisible in my chair. Crutches aren’t practical for three flights of stairs, obviously. They also kill my shoulders if I have to do a lot of walking. The wheelchair isn’t practical in my building. If it’s a really bad day and I know I’ll need to use my chair at work, I can take the freight elevator downstairs. I try not to do that too often, because it irritates the crap out of the super, even though he can’t stop me from using it.”

  “That guy sounds like an asshole.”

  “He is. He didn’t believe I’m an amputee until I sat in his office and rolled my damn pants leg up to show him. Honest to god, he thought I bought a wheelchair just to fake it and use the freight elevator.”

  “Isn’t that illegal, to make you prove your disability like that?”

  A shrug. “Probably.” A sly, sexy grin curves his lips. “One of the few times I shamelessly used my wounded vet status to make him feel like shit. He doesn’t hassle me now, but I still get dirty looks from him sometimes.”

  I hate the asshole already. The super, I mean. Wish I had contacts in Treasury to get the fucker’s taxes audited. How dare he doubt my pet?

  Which brings me to another point. “Can I ask a stupid question?”

  “Because it was the only apartment I could afford in that area.” He’s smirking. “I really didn’t want a roommate, for several reasons, and I refuse to stick my hand out to lobbyists.” His smirk fades. “Although there was a guy, another congressman, telling me about a rooming house some of the guys in his prayer group—”

  “No.” I already know where he’s going with this. “Whatever you do, do not accept an offer to room on C Street.”

  He looks understandably confused. “That’s right, you asked me about that earlier. What’s the story?”

  I take a deep breath. “You religious?”

  “You mean what do I honestly believe, or what do I tell my constituents?”

  I manage a laugh. “What do you honestly believe?”

  “I’m a live and let live kind of guy. Don’t shove your religion down my throat, and I won’t bore you with what I think. I used to believe more, before I grew up and learned things. They say there are no atheists in foxholes but, I gotta tell you, I don’t want anything to do with a god who allows the kind of shit to happen that we put up with in this world.”

  The oven chirps that it’s preheated. I slide the pizzas in and set a timer on my phone. “You know about the group that’s really behind the National Prayer Breakfast, right?”

  His brow furrows. “Not really, no. I mean, I attended this year. It was my first one, obviously. I kept my mouth closed and my ears open, and nodded in the right places, I suppose. Got out of there as soon as I could. Didn’t do any of the extra events that week and used the excuse my leg was hurting, which wasn’t completely a lie. Why?”

  “Called The Family, or The Fellowship, and sometimes they go by other names…” And I proceed to detail what I know of them.

  The highlights, anyway. The problem with that particular religious organization is that it claims it doesn’t have an organization. There are several congressional prayer groups that meet which are affiliated with it, and from there it’s difficult to track them. It’s deliberately designed with discrete cells scattered all over the world, so there is no one organization you can home in on and target. Researchers have written books about their shady practices, including tax evasion via declaring they’re a religious organization, cozying up to dictators and authoritarian leaders, supporting anti-LGBTQ laws in other countries, and arranging backroom meetings that are little more than shadow foreign policy end runs around the administration.

  “So the bottom line is, keep them at arm’s length,” I finish. “Because if any of them ever got dirt on you, maybe the lower level members like you might all preach love and forgiveness and trust but don’t put it past anyone else at the higher levels to use kompromat to strong-arm you into voting for what they want, or doing favors for them.”

  Now he’s scowling and I hate that he looks worried. “Like threatening to out me if I don’t deliver votes?”

  “Maybe. I don’t have hard first-hand evidence, only a lot of really strange coincidences and related accounts that aren’t easily explained away in any other permutation. Just look up the books and film documentaries about them. Their existence isn’t a secret. You help them, you end up protected and helped in return. But that always comes with a price. Never be afraid to play them for your benefit but make sure in the process you don’t give them any dirt to use on you.”

  He throws back his head and groans. “Dammit, why did I ever run for the House? Fuck. I should have run for county commission or something.”

  “Why did you
run?” Because I am curious why this man who is definitely not a political animal managed to get himself elected.

  He tells me about the governor backing him over the incumbent.

  That they didn’t even care Elliot was a Dem says a lot about how desperate they were to get the incumbent out of office.

  “I just want to make a positive impact for people like my parents.” His soft, gentle tone rips at me. I can’t even imagine him as a politician, much less as a soldier trained to kill and actively taking lives. “Between the corporate farms, and the stupid trade wars we’re still suffering from in Nebraska, it’s killing family farmers. Bankrupting them.

  “The people in our area are good people, hard-working farmers. And for years, it’s felt like the government has been intent on strangling them out of existence, all while running on being ‘family values’ and suckering farmers into voting for them. That’s what finally made my mind up for me, knowing people like my parents are at the mercy of the banks, of farm bills being passed, subsidies being allotted, and agricultural bailouts being offered.”

  I reach down and brush the hair back from his forehead. “You’re too good for this city,” I softly say. “Please, don’t let it change you. I know that’s difficult to manage, but try to imprint this conversation in your soul and refer to it when things get hard. We need more people like you in office.”

  He nuzzles my hand as he stares up at me. “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”

  “Stick with me, and I’ll work on that for you.” That reminds me. “Stay there, pet. I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I grin. “Got a little something I want to see you wearing this weekend.”

  Chapter Ten

  Now

  By the time I’ve caught a ride with Secret Service and returned to the White House, you’d never know I just had an emotional breakdown of thermonuclear proportions in my lover’s house—who happens to be the vice president of the United States, no less—and puked my guts up in his bathroom.

  You’d never know I stuck a wet washcloth into his freezer before I finished repacking his bags for the trip and then held it to my face for a few minutes to help reduce the swelling and redness around my nose and eyes.

  You wouldn’t have a clue that I dug eyedrops out of his toiletries kit and dumped a bunch into my eyes to help take the red out.

  The Leo Cruz who returns to the West Wing is put together, calm, collected, and looks nothing like the man who only an hour earlier was a fucking wreck, and who definitely couldn’t have been mistaken for a current or former Secret Service agent, had someone seen him.

  Thank god no one saw me like that.

  Especially Elliot.

  I need to suck it the fuck up. My actions landed me in this predicament. I was weak, I shouldn’t have let Elliot make the sacrifice of being poly, and I damn sure never should have dragged Jordan into our messy universe.

  Elliot does need me, and I cannot abandon him.

  I will not abandon him.

  Elliot’s still in meetings, so I head to the East Wing to have a quick chat with Chris. He’s in his office and when I motion, asking if I can close the door, he nods. I shut it behind me and then take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  He closes the lid of his laptop. “What’s up?”

  I take a deep breath. “I need to ask a favor, sir.”

  He grins. “Again?”

  I’m not smiling, because I hate to ask this.

  I hate even more what prompted the ask in the first place. “Yes, sir.”

  His smile fades. “This sounds serious. What happened?”

  “Hannah. That aide who I think is attached to your comms shop here in the EW.”

  “Yeah? I think she’s slated to go on the trip to California, shadowing Elliot’s comms staff. She’s hoping for a spot on his team after he runs.”

  Well, shit.

  I shake my head. “Strike her from the list, please. I’ll grab the roster and pull someone from Shae’s comms shop with more experience, one of the speechwriters. Hannah needs to be reassigned outside the White House and her free access restricted to just the EW. I don’t want her in trouble, and I would prefer a logical reason to reassign her. But she’s making Elliot uncomfortable with her incessant hovering. She always magically appears when he’s out and about. Yesterday, it indirectly caused a problem between him and me.”

  Yes, I’ll to tell Chris the basics, because I know he’ll keep our secrets and he needs to understand the severity of this.

  Considering his dynamic with Shae and Kev, he will grok why this is bad. “Elliot locked me out of his office yesterday and I didn’t understand why. Turns out it was because he didn’t want to deal with her. So I left the White House thinking he was upset with me when it turns out he really needed me. For obvious reasons, he’s not interested in her. I don’t want this becoming an ‘incident’ of any kind, either. Can we please keep Elliot’s name out of it?”

  Chris slowly nods. “Ah. Sorry about that. I’ll find somewhere else for her to work. I’m sure I can transfer her over to the EEOB. They were asking about increasing staff there just the other day, and I’ve got plenty of comms staff here.”

  “That would be a great start.” Yes, bitchiness creeps into my tone. Even the butchest Dom’s allowed to let his petty inner queen off her leash every once in a while. “She’s never going to date Elliot, much less marry him, so she needs to get over herself and back the hell off.”

  He leans back in his chair and levels his piercing green gaze at me. “How’s Jordan settling in back in Tallahassee?”

  I hope he doesn’t notice how I’m digging the nails of my left hand into my palm to stave off my tears. “He’s fine, sir.”

  Chris doesn’t speak for a moment. “Please tell him the kids say hi and miss him. So do we.”

  I slowly nod. “I will, sir.”

  “Ah.”

  I don’t respond.

  Chris finally sighs. “You want a few days off to go talk to him? Try to work it out?”

  I shake my head. “I’m good, sir.”

  “I disagree. You’re anything but good right now, Leo. You haven’t been good for two weeks.” He’s in shirtsleeves and crosses his arms over his chest. “Kind of odd that he suddenly decided after, what, nearly seven years, to go finish his master’s, isn’t it? Did something happen in my office I’m not aware of that made him uncomfortable?”

  “No, sir,” I quietly say. “He loved working here and working for you and your office. It had nothing to do with that, or with you, or your family.”

  Former United States Secret Service Special Agent Christopher Bruunt is a master of studying people. I feel that right now in the long pause before his next comment. “Will there be any…issues?”

  I slowly shake my head. “It was his decision, not mine. It wasn’t under…” I suck in a breath. “It was amicable. I trust him not to burn us. Any of us. Even without the NDA.”

  Another moment of quiet before he speaks again. “If you reconcile, and he wants to come back, I’ll be happy to—”

  “Chris,” I whisper, “I can’t do this right now. Please.”

  “Fair enough. I’m sorry.”

  I nod. I’m pretty sure my nails are about to draw blood from my palm. “You didn’t know.”

  “I still don’t know. I will, however, strike Hannah from the trip and make sure she’s transferred to across the street this week, before Elliot returns.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I move to rise when he speaks. “If you ever need an ear, you know how to find me. Day or night, seriously. I’m worried about you.”

  I hesitate. “Not today, sir. I need to focus on the vice president. I want to make it through the trip and get back here. My parents don’t even know yet. But…I ask for your discretion, even with your immediate family. Please? I don’t need them knowing more and worrying about me. And I don’t want them knowing more and wor
rying about me, either. This is for no one’s ears but yours.”

  He slowly nods. “Understood. And absolutely.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I stand and turn to go.

  “Leo?”

  I pause at the door and look back.

  “It’s never easy, what it is that we do. Who we are in our…relationships. Sometimes, letting go is all we can do, and it fucking sucks.” He wears a solemn look. “But never forget your love for him, and never let hope die. It took me and Kev twenty years to finally get what we needed. Hopefully, it won’t take that long for you.”

  I pray he’s right. “Thank you, sir.” I let myself out and fight my urge to stampede down the hall.

  Instead, I check on Elliot’s status, consult with Secret Service about who else is travelling today, call one of the comms wonks from Shae’s office and give him a heads-up that he’s going and that he needs to run home and pack, notify Elliot’s comms staff the change was made, have them send me a copy of all the speeches Elliot’s making while on this trip under the guise of Elliot wanting me to have them to practice them with him, and confirm Chris has already struck Hannah from the travel list, which probably happened seconds after I left his office.

  All that now dealt with, I can retreat to my office upstairs, where I close and lock the door behind me.

  Thus I slump into the chair behind my desk and stare at the picture of me and Jordan hanging on the wall while my heart painfully throbs in my chest.

  I thought nothing could ever hurt worse than the aftermath of the plane crash.

  I was wrong.

  God, was I wrong.

  * * * *

  I’m standing outside Elliot’s office door when the House aides emerge from their meeting with him. He glances around before stepping inside again, tipping his head to me as he does. He’s not wearing his glasses and I spy them on his desk.

  I follow him into his office, shutting and lock the door behind me. He already looks haggard and his day’s barely begun. I can tell we’ll spend our flight to California with us locked in the executive suite in the nose of the plane and him lying on the sofa with his head in my lap.